Eleanor felt her breath cease, her brows furrowed. "What...what did you say?"

Jeanna gave a small sigh. "His Highness needs something as poweful as his own blood. The only thing that powerful is his mate bond. The..."

"But the cure..."

"It is in a werewolf's blood. He is named Matthew."

Eleanor let out a small breath. "How did you know?"

"I am a priestess," Jenna said, her eyes holding Eleanor's teary gaze. "Although a very flawed one."

Silence descended in the room, and Eleanor slowly turned to Conaan's still body. "Is there no other way?"

"There probably is," Jenna said. "But my lady, did you expect that the moon goddess...